


a time for vengeance

by OceanEyes1n



Series: a softer epilogue [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Angst, Badass Anakin, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Fake Character Death, Force Choking (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda, M/M, Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker Are Not Married, Pre-Relationship, Referenced Slavery, Slavery, Swearing, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), The Force, War, absolutely obsessed with the way ao3 wont let me reorder these tags, both canon and real swearing, could be read as gen - Freeform, hes fine though, i don't know how the force works and at this point im too afraid to ask, i just think it'd be neat if they used the force more, i meant it as romantic though, powerful anakin, referenced massacre/murder, some introspection about jedi's connection to the force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanEyes1n/pseuds/OceanEyes1n
Summary: It was a routine mission until everything went wrong.Rex gets hurt. Anakin doesn’t react well.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker
Series: a softer epilogue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102262
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87





	a time for vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took a bit to get out, school got really busy. I have a few more ideas for this series but I probably won’t post anything new for a few months since I haven’t written any of them yet (and I have another fic idea living rent free in my head that I’m indulging right now). I also wanted to thank everyone who left comments and kudos on part 1! Your feedback meant a lot to me, and I hope you guys like this one too (:
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. If you see grammar/spelling issues feel free to tell me.
> 
> In my drafts this fic is simply titled “apeshit,” which tells you everything you need to know about this fic. 
> 
> *KUBAR = kriffed up beyond all recognition

Anakin Skywalker has died thousands of times.

As the strongest Force-sensitive being alive, no one’s connection to the Force is like his. He’s tried to explain the way he experiences the Force to Obi-Wan before, but it didn’t take him long to give up trying to make him understand. Obi-Wan’s connection to the Force was calming, something that grounded him within his place in the galaxy, and he used meditation to access it. But to Anakin the Force was a living storm - sentient and screaming at him, constantly demanding to be heard. It was an overwhelming mess of sensations that never gave him a moment of peace. 

Meditating - standing still as the Force moved through him - would only lead to the storm overtaking him. He had learned early on the consequences of trying to brave the storm, so he adapted. Being active and moving allowed the Force to flow through him instead of overwhelming him. He couldn’t sit still and let the storm rage around him- he had to move with it, to trust where it led him. His connection to the Force wasn’t something to be accessed, to be turned on or off. To him, the Force was life itself. 

The Force was as endless and widespread as the sky. It connected all living beings. By walking through the heart of it, Anakin was connected to all living beings near him. So while there was no one he trusted at his back more than the clones, that didn’t change the fact that to fight with them was to be in constant agony. They didn’t have the Force or Jedi training to hone their reflexes or sense danger a second before it struck, so they died in waves. And as the war raged on, the clones were being sent out earlier and earlier, and the newer clones didn’t receive the same range of training as the older clones had. 

And more clones died because of it. 

The staggering loss of life at every battle was bad enough, but to feel their deaths as if they were your own was on another level altogether. 

He could feel all the clones through the Force, each of their unique, bright presences _pinging_ in the back of his mind whenever he was around them. And each time one of them died - when their light was snuffed out - he felt it. He lived it. Part of him died with them. Anakin had died so many times he was surprised there was any of him left. And he had died in all sorts of ways- from blaster bolts to blood loss to head wounds to crushed organs to snapped necks to burns and explosions and- well, anything you can think of, he’d died that way. 

He didn’t know how the other Jedi could stand it. Regardless of their differing strengths in the Force, they had to feel _something_. Even before he’d known about the Force, death had impacted him greatly, leaving him dizzy with his chest aching. He had figured that he was just sensitive, but once Qui-Gon had explained the Force to him he’d put it all together. But his time with Gardulla the Hutt and Watto was nothing compared to the deaths he experienced in war. 

The first time he’d fought alongside the clones, he’d nearly fallen to his knees at feeling them die. It had left him breathless and lightheaded and tasting blood on the back of his tongue. If Obi-Wan hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have been able to keep going. With time, he’d learned to move through the pain and not linger in it. While the echo of their deaths in the Force wasn’t as powerful as the first time he’d experienced it, it was a haunting sensation that still left him nauseous and chilled. 

Humans weren't meant to die more than once.

*****

Anakin and the 501st had chased a Separatist ship to the planet Dantooine. The ship had been easy enough to track once they’d reached the planet, and with neither Grievous nor Dooku on board, Anakin hadn’t been expecting much of a fight. The battle had initially been going their way when another battalion worth of droids had come up from behind, surrounding them and cutting off any chance for a retreat. It was an ambush. Naturally.

Even with the large amount of droids, the battle wouldn’t have been that bad if the Separatists hadn’t brought over a dozen tanks with them. Under heavy fire and in the middle of the grasslands where there was little to no cover, no one could blame Anakin if his attacks became a little more desperate. Determined not to think about how outnumbered and outgunned they were, he threw himself into the rhythm of the battle. He winced each time a clone got shot and focused on deflecting blaster bolts in an attempt to provide some kind of cover for the clones. With Rex’s familiar voice barking out orders to the men across the comlink, he could almost pretend things were going well. 

And then a grunt through the comms caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder to see one of Rex’s pistols lowered and a blaster bolt wound in his bicep. He started to make his way over to him but was too far away to help when another blaster shot clipped Rex’s other side. And from there it was like everything happened in slow motion. The Separatists launched a cannon blast into their forces. The impact of it sent Rex and the clones nearest to him flying and caused Anakin to stumble. Sharp pain exploded behind his eyes at the feeling of clones dying, his chest constricting as their organs were crushed and his throat burning from the heat of the cannon blast. By the time he’d blinked the spots out of his vision, Rex was laying on his back several feet away from where he had been standing moments before. 

Anakin stared at him in shock. He wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving? He always got back up, so why was he still laying there? He couldn’t… he couldn’t be dead. Anakin refused to believe it. But dread had started to build up his throat as the seconds dragged by and Rex still wasn’t moving. The distance was too far for him to check if he was still breathing, but his chest didn’t look like it was moving. Why wasn’t it moving? With the amount of sentients’ Force signatures in his head, it would take hours for Anakin to dig through them all looking for Rex’s. Hours he didn’t have. But he’d know, wouldn’t he, if Rex was dead? 

His thoughts abruptly turned to his mother. No. Not again. He couldn’t do this again. He’d just gotten Rex to call him Anakin, had just started to chip away at his walls so they could be something like friends. He couldn’t- he couldn’t lose him. Not like this, not because of some rogue cannon blast. Not because he’d charged in without thinking. 

“Kix! Kix!” He yelled, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the on-going battle. The battle itself felt far away, like he was watching it on the Holonet instead of living it. His hearing was muffled, like his head was underwater. With each breath, water filled his lungs until it hurt to breathe, his chest tightening under the pressure. He knew he should move, that he should… should be doing something, but he couldn’t look away from Rex... from his body. 

Force, Rex was dead. 

Anakin shook his head at the thought, not wanting to believe it. But it was the truth. Rex was dead. His body went numb at the realization. The only thought in his head was a litany of _Rex, Rex, Rex, Rex_ \- a continuous mantra in his mind, repeated desperately like a prayer. Like saying his name would bring him back. 

The pain of a blaster bolt skimming against his leg jolted him out of his daze. And that’s when his brain shuddered back online. The droids, the Separatists- they had killed Rex. Rex with his direct demeanor and strong sense of honor. Rex with his unwavering support and quiet kindness. Rex who could be so gentle despite living a life filled with war. Rex who could be just as reckless and creative and brave and brash as Anakin. Rex who would’ve died for Anakin, who _had_ died for the Republic, for this war- for what? For what purpose had he died? He’d been born to be cannon fodder for the Republic so _their_ own citizens wouldn’t have to fight _in their own war_ , and now he was dead. 

And they wouldn’t even care. Any Republic official would respond simply to the news with “that’s what he was created to do.” As if he wasn’t a human being, as if he wasn’t his own person, as if he didn’t have his own wants and fears and- and sense of self. As if he was just some number, some droid to be used and thrown away- as if he didn’t have his own name. They wouldn’t care that Rex was naturally blond instead of black-haired like his brothers. Or that when he laughed really hard he snorted. Or that he kept tallies on his helmet for each time one of Anakin’s reckless plans worked out. Or that he talked to all the Shinies when they first joined and helped them settle in, or that he visited his brothers in the infirmary whenever he could. Or that he was so much more than “just a clone” or a soldier. 

He was a complete person. 

And now they wouldn’t ever know. 

Visions of his mother’s death flashed through his mind. The way her eyes had dimmed and her body gone slack. The way her mouth had trembled as she tried to talk to him, to make him feel better, like he was the one who had been dying (but maybe she had known. Maybe she had known the way some part of him would splinter from her death, the way part of him died with her). The way the Force had gone so still around him, how he’d made it to the eye of the storm but it had come at an unfathomable price. The stillness had only lasted a second before the Force had exploded all around him, and her death had been paid for with blood. 

And then her image was replaced with Rex’s, his mind conjuring up what he looked like under his helmet when he died. Some voice in the back of his head whispered, too late, too late, too late. He was always too late. Too late to save those he loved. 

But he always got there just in time to avenge them.

The edges of Anakin’s vision went red as a roar overtook his ears. He threw his lightsaber, curving it with the Force so it cut through a line of super battle droids and through the middle of a blaster cannon. With a clench of his fist, all the closet battle droids’ hands were crushed beyond use, and he telekinetically grabbed their blasters. The blasters hovered in the air over his head, and a second later he snatched his lightsaber back on its return trajectory. Channeling his energy into manipulating the Force, he directed the blasters to start firing at the droids and used his lightsaber to deflect their shots back onto them. Sweat made his hair cling to his face but he’d be damned if stopped now. He wasn’t going to stop until all the droids were nothing more than scrap metal beneath his feet. 

When the blasters ran out of energy, he launched them back at the droids hard enough to take their heads off. He turned back to his men and pushed them to the sidelines, out of the way of incoming fire. Extending his arms toward each groups of Separatists, he grabbed as many battle droids as he could and smashed them against each other in a cascade of sparks and bolts. Then he repeated the action. Over and over again he threw the droids against each other, destroying them, all while sidestepping stray blaster bolts. For each droid that exploded, he held onto their pieces, adding them to a vortex of droid parts that he circled around himself. As more droids were destroyed, the thicker his vortex became, building up into a shield against the droids’ attacks.

His breaths were coming in pants, and an ache blossomed in the back of his skull from using the Force but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to let something as trivial as pain stop him. 

With the way he was overextending himself in the Force, he was highly attuned to its web of life. So when a presence brushed against his awareness that he didn’t recognize as a clone’s, he chased after it. Closing his eyes, he focused on following the presence back to its source, absently continuing his attack on the droids as he did so. It was a slippery presence, oily even, but Anakin was a trained Jedi Knight with a strong connection to the Force- they would have to do better if they wanted to hide from him. Mentally, he grasped the presence tightly, curiously poking at it and trying to figure out who it belonged to-

His eyes shot open. The droids weren’t here alone. They had a Neimoidian captain with them. Tightening his grip on the presence, he quickly located where he was hiding. The droids were useless without someone commanding them. If he could get his hands on the Neimoidian, this battle could end a hell of a lot quicker. 

Anakin marched forward, using his makeshift shield to deflect any blaster shots that came his way. The Neimoidian was hiding among their group of tanks. But not for long. 

With only a few feet between him and the tanks, they seemed to realize they were his target. He easily dodged the lead tank’s fire. Reaching out his left hand, he grabbed the tank closest to him and clenched his fist. The tank collapsed into itself like a dying star. Distantly he was aware of the droids shrieking in their mechanized voices and the increase in blaster fire toward him, but they couldn’t touch him so he tuned them out easily enough. 

The Neimoidian’s presence was still in his grasp, so he moved on. He grabbed the next tank in line and crushed it easily. Again and again and again he did this, weaving his way through tank debris, dodging fire and blocking blaster bolts. His muscles were shaking from controlling the Force for so long, but he stomped forward on unsteady feet nonetheless. The pain was nothing compared to the feeling of the clones dying, to the tightness in his chest at knowing Rex was dead. It was fitting - some dark part of his mind commented - that he was going to crush the Neimoidian like how his heart had been crushed. He deserved to feel the same agony Anakin walked around with every day, and the new agony he was walking around with now. And Anakin was going to make sure he did. He may not be able to bring Rex back-had been unable to save him-but he could drag this Neimoidian and all the other Separatists down to his level until they felt just a hundredth of the pain Anakin felt. Until they _understood_. 

It wasn’t until there were only a few tanks left that the top hatch of one opened and a voice called out, “wait!” 

A green hand reached out from the opening and then the top of one of those black hats that all the Neimoidians were so fond of wearing popped out too. 

But Anakin refused to wait. His vengeance would not be smooth-talked away by one of the swarmiest species in the galaxy. Shifting his focus from the tanks to the Neimoidian, he gave him a hard shove. The Neimoidian fell onto the ground beside the tank with a loud thump and an indignant squawking sound. Anakin stalked over to him while he pushed himself onto his feet. His hat had fallen off his head during his tumble and landed a foot or so away. The Neimoidian moved like he was going to grab it when Anakin plucked a severed droid arm from his vortex and hurled it a hair’s length away from where his fingers were reaching. The Neimoidian shuffled back into place quickly after that, eyeing Anakin warily.

Anakin slowed down the vortex’s speed so he could get a good look at him. The Neimoidian was tall and skinny with dark red eyes. Anakin didn’t recognize him, so he pulled on the Neimoidian’s Force presence and shoved his way into his mind. The Neimodian gasped, hands flying up to his temple as Anakin roughly rooted around inside his head and pulled out his name. 

“Nok Sula, order your army to stand down and surrender,” Anakin commanded, pointing his lightsaber at him.

The Neimoidian glared up at him indignantly. “I would’ve given my name if you had only asked. Impulsive Jedi, there was no need for such an invasion-”

“Surrender. _Now._ ”

Whatever expression he saw on Anakin’s face made him raise his hands up and say, “now, now, Jedi, there’s no need for violence. I’m sure we can come to a reasonable arrangement-”

Anakin threw two droid heads at him from his vortex. They landed heavily on either side of his neck, close enough to ruffle his clothes. Nok flinched when they shattered upon impact with the ground. “I won’t ask again.”

Nok hmphed a bit but Anakin could feel his fear through the Force, could taste the bitterness of it on his tongue, and he knew he wasn’t going to fight him. Anakin held his gaze until Nok pulled out his comlink and said some code that powered down the droids and made them stop advancing. 

“I suppose now is the part where you take me prisoner,” he sighed.

“Now is the part where I kill you,” Anakin snarled, blue lightsaber glowing fiercely and painting his face in harsh shadow.

Nok gaped at him. “You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man. I- that’s- you’re a Jedi.”

“You’re not unarmed,” he said back cooly, tipping his head to the comlink still held in his hands. 

With trembling arms, Nok quickly raised the comlink as if he was going to turn it back on, so Anakin snatched it out of his grip with the Force. 

“We’re at war,” he told him fiercely, crushing the comlink in his fist. “And I don’t have the patience for prisoners.”

Nok watched the destroyed parts of his comlink fall out of Anakin’s grip with an expression of pure terror but opened his mouth as if to speak. Before he could say anything, Anakin raised his left hand and squeezed. Nok clawed at his throat and gasped out, “have… mercy-”

Anakin’s expression hardened, his lips curling as he thought of the Trade Federation and all the horror and pain they’d brought to the galaxy, to the clones, to Padmé, to Rex, to him. “Because the Neimoidians are known for their mercy.”

Tightening his grip, he raised Nok a few inches off the ground, a tendril of dark satisfaction curling in his chest at the sight of his eyes bugging out of his head and the sounds of his desperate gasps for air, and waited.

*****

Rex came back to consciousness slowly, his head throbbing. The light spilling in from his helmet only made his headache worse, and he resisted the urge to groan. His entire body ached, especially his side and right arm. He squinted down at his arm, trying to figure out what happened as he gingerly sat up. His memory came back grudgingly. He remembered getting shot first in the arm, then in the side, and then- nothing. It’s all blank. The next thing he remembered was waking up a few seconds ago.

Frowning, he looked up to see his brothers standing around him, doing… nothing? They were still on the battlefield but most of his brothers were holding their blasters loosely, if they weren’t already holstered. 

Slowly, carefully, Rex struggled to his feet, trying not to jostle his arm. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him once he was upright, and he stumbled slightly but managed to regain his balance. Pressing a hand to the temple of his helmet, he swallowed back his nausea and shuffled forward. He slipped through the crowd to see the remnants of the battle and stopped dead at the sight. 

The ground was covered in so many droid parts he could barely see the grass beneath it. He blinked at the scene for a moment, processing, then continued to scan over the field, looking for any clues that could help him figure out what was going on. A little ways away was a droid cannon cleaved in two with the top bit laying half on the ground and half against the bottom of the tank. And littered around the epicenter of parts were… turned off droids? He squinted in confusion but, no, he really was seeing that right. The droids were powered down, heads bowed and locked in place. That was all he could see from his position behind the cluster of his brothers.

Just as he was mentally preparing himself to move again, he saw a familiar helmet moving past the edge of his vision.

“Kix!” He called, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

“Rex, you really shouldn’t be up-”

“What the kriff happened here?”

Kix jerked his head to the side, back over to where their brothers were converged. “I don’t know the details, but the General went crazy. Destroyed nearly their entire battalion before confronting their captain. I think he’s talking to him now.”

Their General wasn’t the best at negotiations on a good day and, looking around at the carnage, this didn’t seem like it was a good day. He should probably check on him. 

“Thanks Kix,” he said and started to make his way over to where Kix had indicated. The wound on his side tightened with each step he took, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He had a job to do and nothing was going to stop him from doing it. 

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be moving. I don’t have enough bacta to properly treat your wounds,” Kix said, easily keeping pace with him.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, feeling sweat bead at his temple. The pulsing ache in his head was getting worse and everything was still a little too bright. He adjusted the brightness on his visor and kept moving. 

He heard Kix sigh before offering, “at least let me help you get to wherever you’re going.”

Rex’s first instinct was to say no. He was sure there were others who needed Kix’s attention more than he did, and he really wasn’t hurt that badly. He could manage on his own. But then he overextended himself and pain flared hot in his side, nearly sending him staggering, and he rethought his pride. “Alright, fine.”

Stepping close to his wounded side, Kix wrapped Rex’s arm over his should, and together they walked past the rest of their brothers. Once through the crowd, Rex realized they were heading toward a group of destroyed droid tanks. He felt his eyebrows climbing up his forehead as they walked past them. 

“General Skywalker did this?”

Despite asking, Rex already knew the answer. The tanks were crushed nearly beyond recognition. No one else but Anakin could’ve done this. 

“Yes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Rex hadn’t either, but he kept that thought to himself. He had no idea what could’ve caused Anakin to react like this. 

As they passed another tank, the resulting opening allowed him to see what looked like a cyclone of droid parts. Rex stopped in shock, letting himself watch the furious way it spun into itself. Kix cleared his throat meaningfully and Rex snapped out of his daze, urging them to keep moving. As they got closer, Rex noticed that there was someone standing in the middle of the cyclone. He focused on their silhouette, but it didn’t take him long to recognize the person as Anakin. He was standing completely still, droid parts whipping around him and fluttering his hair against his face, his body locked tight like a taut wire about to snap. For a negotiation, there didn’t seem to be a lot of talking going on. Rex’s eyes darted between his General’s still form and the open hatch on one of the tanks, and a heavy feeling settled between his ribs. 

Without thinking about it, he pulled away from Kix and rushed forward, calling out, “General Skywalker?”

He absently noted Kix sighing behind him but, thankfully, he didn’t try to stop him. Once closer, he was able to see what was going on. The General was Force choking a Neimoidian, who Rex assumed was the Separatist captain. The Neimoidian’s face had turned a deep green, and his feet scraped against the ground desperately. But it was Anakin who worried him most. His face was hard and blank like stone, and he didn’t show any indication that he’d heard Rex or the hoarse gagging sounds coming from the Neimoidian’s throat. 

Rex swallowed down his concern, edging closer to them. Anakin’s side profile was harsh, but he could see more than enough of his expression to recognize it. The expression was one he had seen on his brothers’ faces more times than he cared to remember. It usually happened after a battle, either to shinies after their first real battle or if it been a particularly nasty fight, where they’d still be in fight or flight mode, still seeing the shapes around them as possible threats, still living that battle. One wrong move and they’d take your head off. 

Anakin’s words from last week rose again in his mind. He’d tried to dismiss what Anakin had said as fatigue so he could ignore the grimness of his tone and the weight of his words, but maybe it had been more of a confession than he’d thought. Maybe Anakin really was more soldier than Jedi now; he’d certainly grown comfortable killing when he deemed it necessary, like all the clones. 

Something had triggered this violent, emotional outburst from him, leaving him trapped in his own mind. What that was, though, Rex didn’t know. By comparing what the battle had been like before he’d gotten knocked out and then after, he figured that whatever had caused Anakin to react like this must have happened while he was unconscious, and some small part of him thought maybe… but he pushed the thought aside, focusing on his General. What bothered him most about his General’s appearance was his eyes. There was an emptiness to his eyes that unsettled Rex, like he wasn’t really here anymore. It was like he was looking at something no one else could see. 

Rex needed to get him out of his head. 

With an uneasy glance over his shoulder at Kix, Rex took a step closer to his General and called his name. “Anakin?”

A heartbeat passed, and then Anakin’s expression flickered, his brows furrowing in confusion. He looked over at Rex and the emptiness in his eyes shattered when their gazes met, his eyes sparking. Seemingly without thought, he released his grip on both the Neimoidian and his cyclone, and they collapsed. 

Reaching for him, Anakin said in a dazed sort of voice, “Rex?”

Distantly Rex was aware of the Neimoidian on his knees coughing harshly, but his attention stayed on Anakin, on the way his expression was opening up and brightening like a sun rising. Part of him thought maybe he should check on the Neimoidian, but, well, Kix was right there- if he was that bad off he’d say something. And he was a Separatist captain. Why would he focus on him when Anakin was right in front of him?

“Yes, sir.”

His words were barely louder than a murmur but Rex could clearly hear him say, “you’re alive. Sithhells, you’ve alive.”

He was taken aback by the emotion in Anakin’s voice and had no idea what to say back.

“You’re alright?” It should’ve been a question, but the fierce way Anakin asked it made it sound more like a demand: _you’re alright._

Anakin took a step toward him, and Rex moved to close the remaining distance between them. He opened his mouth to say something when he was suddenly reminded that he’d been shot, more than once, caught in an explosion, and had basically run to his General’s side. His body had gone along with his determination to find Anakin for a time but now it was letting him know how little it had appreciated him wandering around. His wounds throbbed sharply, and his breaths went shallow as spots filled his vision.

“Rex?”

Anakin’s worried voice was the last thing he heard before he fell into unconsciousness.

*****

The next time Rex woke up he was in the infirmary aboard the Resolute. Before even opening his eyes, he knew where he was based on the smell alone (as helpful as bacta was, it didn’t smell nice). He opened his eyes slowly, glad that the lights had been dimmed. They didn’t have the space to give everyone their own rooms, so they used curtains to break up the space and provide the illusion of privacy. He stared up at the plain ceiling, mentally cataloguing his injuries. His side and arm were both bandaged with bacta, and aside from the dryness of his throat and a few minor scrapes, that was the worst of it. Even his headache had dulled enough to be manageable.

He rolled his head to the side, grimacing at the stiffness of his neck, and saw that his helmet was atop a nearby cart and his armor was stacked neatly beside the bed he was laying on, leaving him in his blacks. Someone must’ve undressed him. While he wasn’t modest by any means, the fact that he hadn’t been able to do it himself bothered him. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet snuffling sound. Glancing over, he saw his General sitting in a chair next to his hips, sleeping with his head tucked against his chest. 

Rex took a moment just to look. Anakin’s long eyelashes were fanned out across his cheeks, his hair a disheveled mess. He also noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the way his skin had paled, making his face look gaunt. In short, he looked tired. Force over-usage, if he had to guess. And he was still wearing the same robes from the battle. Rex frowned when he noticed that and wondered how long Anakin had been sitting with him. 

Leaning carefully off the bed, he tapped his shoulder and said, “Anakin? Wake up.”

Anakin frowned briefly before his eyes opened and his gaze focused on Rex. He rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth and murmured, “mm, you’re awake?”

Rex leaned back against the headboard and said, voice hoarse, “yeah. Just woke up.”

At the sound of his voice Anakin shot up from his seat and walked around his bed to get him a cup of water. Rex softly rubbed the outside of his throat, wincing at his dry his mouth felt. Anakin moved back around the bed and carefully passed him the cup. 

Rex gulped down a few swallows, then said, “thanks.” He held the cup with both hands to try to make up for the fact that his hands were shaking. “How long have you been here?”

Anakin sat back down in his chair, eyes locked on Rex. “Since we brought you back.”

Rex paused for a beat, noting that Anakin’s eyes were red rimmed and he looked at hims with such intensity it was like he was scared Rex was going to disappear the moment he blinked. Rather than mention it, he took another sip of his water. With a half smile he asked, “Kix didn’t try to kick you out?”

Anakin laughed a little but it was quiet. “He tried, but I can be stubborn.”

“Don’t I know it.” He tried to keep his tone light, and it must’ve worked because Anakin’s laugh sounded more natural this time, more like himself. 

As much as Rex wanted to keep making him laugh like that, he needed answers. He began slowly, keeping a concerned eye on him as he did. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what happened?”

“I thought I told you that you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’” His rebuke was lighthearted but his expression tightened at the question. 

“Right.” As much as he enjoyed the growing camaraderie between them-at being able to say his name-referring to him as his superior officer was a hard habit to break. But he didn’t feel too bad about the slip given it’d only been about a week since that conversation. “What happened, Anakin?”

Anakin stared at him with wary eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. His grip on the chair’s armrests tightened as lowered his gaze to the floor between them. As the silence stretched out, Rex was afraid he wasn’t going to answer. While he was contemplating changing the subject, he finally spoke.

“Everything went KUBAR. We were ambushed- you remember, and things were going as well as usual… and then so many of your brothers went down- you went down. And didn’t get back up.”

Rex frowned, a picture of what had happened forming in his mind. Anakin had needed his brothers- had needed him, but he hadn’t been there. He’d needed him at his back, and without them he’d been forced to go to extremes to protect them, getting lost in the fight in the process. Guilt settled heavy in his chest. He didn’t pretend to understand the Jedi and their connection to the Force, but he knew it was hard for them to use the Force to move multiple things. And based on the state of the battlefield Rex had woken up to, Anakin had used the Force extensively. Kriff, no wonder the man looked exhausted. Rex should’ve been able to dodge the blasts- at the very least he should’ve dodged the cannon blast. He was a captain and yet he’d fallen like a Shiny during their first battle. 

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault. I should’ve-”

“What are you talking about?” Anakin demanded, his head snapping up. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark and were just as piercing as his lightsaber. Rex swallowed at the sight of the determined furrow in his brows and the frustrated slant of his mouth. 

Anakin shook his head after a moment of tense silence, blowing out a breath of air as he explained. “You did nothing wrong. Sometimes shit happens. If anything, I should’ve protected you better-”

“It’s not your job to protect me-”

“Of course it’s my job to protect you! You’re my captain, following my orders, and if I hadn’t charged after them we wouldn’t have fallen into their trap-”

“None of us believed it to be a trap. And your decisive actions have saved all of our asses more than once-”

“Not this time,” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead.

Trying to inject some levity into their argument, Rex said, “well, you seemed to do alright on your own-”

“Not soon enough. I was too late… I’m always too late…”

“Anakin?” He asked, watching him worriedly.

Anakin met his eyes with a stricken expression, looking more dejected and- and fragile than he’d ever seen him. And fragile wasn’t a description he’d ever associated with Anakin before. Anakin leaned forward, setting his hand next to Rex’s on the bed and brushing their fingers together. Rex snapped his eyes up from their hands when he began talking. 

“I thought I had lost you,” he confessed, voice breaking at the end and stealing all the air from Rex’s lungs. Eyes shining, he continued. “I thought you were dead, and I just… I got so angry. I would’ve killed that Neimoidian if you hadn’t stopped me, would’ve torn apart his entire battalion.” 

His voice had gained strength as he talked, and by the end his voice was low and vicious. Watching him now, and having seen the destruction he could cause, Rex wondered if this was why the Jedi were supposed to be emotionless, unattached. He wondered if strong emotions heightened their abilities, giving them too much power. If it gave them the capacity for creation and destruction that was too great for any single being to possess. 

With the way Anakin was watching him so intently, he knew he was expecting a response but Rex didn’t know what to say. His selfish hope that maybe it was his injuries that had pushed his General over the edge seemed to have come to life. He knew Anakin cared for all his brothers, but it was his perceived death that had caused him to lose control and break. Rex wasn’t sure what to think about that- or what to do about it. He knew that this was a dangerous responsibility to carry - the ability to elicit such a strong response from his Jedi, especially since he had been created for the sole purpose of dying in this war. But he couldn’t help the warmth in his chest at the confirmation that Anakin cared about him more than a Jedi should, that he would fight for him and avenge him and grieve for him. 

Eventually he managed to steady his voice enough to say, “well, I’m glad I was able to stop you from doing anything you’d regret.”

The corner of Anakin’s mouth curled up, like he was laughing at a joke Rex wasn’t in on, but he stood up before Rex could ask. And Rex let him, sighing in relief upon seeing the familiar playful spark in his eyes, his earlier somberness gone now. Anakin gently set his hand on Rex’s shoulder and said, “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll let you rest now.”

“As long as you get some rest yourself,” he shot back, trying to find his way back into their familiar bantering and away from heavier topics. 

“No promises,” he replied, grinning, as he made his way to the end of the curtains separating Rex’s space from the rest of the room. 

He stopped at the edge, glancing over his shoulder at Rex as he said, “and Rex? I wouldn’t have regretted it.”

By the time Rex realized he was talking about the Neimoidian, Anakin was already gone.


End file.
